


The Boy Who Loved Wolf

by PearlButterfly



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail is Will's biological daughter, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Will Graham, But he's still Hannibal, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Domestic Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hannibal Lecter is a Softie, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Pregnant Will Graham, Protective Hannibal Lecter, Rape Recovery, Top Hannibal Lecter, Vaginal Sex, Will Graham Needs a Hug, Will Has a Vagina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-03-08 08:06:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18890569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PearlButterfly/pseuds/PearlButterfly
Summary: Will escapes after being held prisoner by a gang of men when his father died, leaving him all alone. In the time he was prisoner, he became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter.He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he made his bid for freedom, but he hadn't imagined having a rich, intelligent, dangerous older man fall in love with him and take in both him and his child.And he definitely hadn't expected to fall in love with Hannibal too.





	1. An Unconventional Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> So in this, Will is male but has female genitalia. I read something similar years ago in another fic from a different fandom. Will is still male with the only difference being he has the right parts to carry children. Hope that makes sense!

Will ran.

In a way he felt elated, he hadn’t been able to run like this in four years. But he felt the fear more. The fear that they would be coming after him, catching him at any second and dragging him back to his own personal hell.

The weight in his arms whined at being jostled about, reminding Will of why his body still ached. He’d only given birth to her about a week ago, hadn’t even had the chance to name her yet. She was his saving grace, his baby girl, because she’d helped him snap out of his despair and reminded him that he needed to live. He couldn’t let her grow up there.

The stocks of corn batted at him as he tore through the field, trying to stay out of sight of the road. They felt like large hands, grabbing him, scratching his skin. The baby’s soft whimpers grew into louder wails and Will couldn’t help but cry too. He was completely overwhelmed and exhausted. All he wanted to do was sleep.

There were lights ahead of him, blurred by his tears. Was it a house? Someone to help him? Ripping through the last of the corn, he stumbled out onto the edge of the road on the other side. The only signs of light around him were the streetlamps, not a house or car in sight.

Will cuddled his baby closer, wishing he’d had more than his thin dirty blanket to wrap her up in. He knew how he must look as well, in his ragged clothes, his curls hanging limply due to lack of proper washing and care.

He could feel it all catching up with him now: his body still recovering from birth, the abuse he’d suffered for years, the sheer exhaustion of simply being. Against his will he could feel his body starting to fold, so he lowered himself to the ground, lying on his back with his daughter safely nestled into his chest.

His head tipped to the side and, just as his eyes were beginning to close, Will could see a light at the end of the road, coming closer.

 

*****

 

Hannibal wasn’t driving fast because he always planned ahead and he knew you couldn’t predict these roads. A lot of the times he’d been driving this way home from work he’d narrowly avoided killing deer and other animals that ran out into the road in front of his car. He had no desire to kill an animal, they weren’t his specialty and it was a very nice car.

That was probably why he noticed the small heap on the left side, by the corn field. Upon closer inspection that small heap turned out to be a boy, perhaps even a young man, though he didn’t look it. And he had a squirming bundle curled into his chest, arms slightly lax around it.

Stopping the car, Hannibal got out and approached slightly wary. He could handle himself better than anybody could ever know but it didn’t hurt to be careful when faced with something unpredictable.

He had to admit he was surprised to find that the bundle was a crying baby, no more than a week old. The boy was pretty filthy, his clothes most certainly having seen better days. Crouching down, careful not to dirty his suit, Hannibal pressed two fingers to the boy’s neck, feeling the pulse. So he was just unconscious.

Something tugged inside his chest, knowing he couldn’t leave this boy lying out on the side of the road with a newborn baby. Smelling the boy this close he could tell that he was one of the special ones, one of the ones born with a vagina as opposed to a penis. Carriers, people called them, because of their ability to carry children. That most definitely meant he would be targeted, this rare difference in his genetic makeup making him even more vulnerable.

With one hand under the boy’s back and the other under his knees, Hannibal lifted him, going slow to make sure the baby stayed nestled where he or she was. He didn’t want to separate them for fearing of making the baby’s cries worse. Thankfully, they died down when inside the warmth of the car.

Sliding back into the driver’s seat, Hannibal took the drive home even slower, glancing back at his passengers in the rearview mirror more times than necessary.

When they got home, he performed the same lift, bringing the stranger into his house. He didn’t stir once, clearly not likely to wake any time soon. Seeing as the baby had quietened, Hannibal decided to tend to the boy first. He lay the child down in the middle of the bed in the guest room and placed pillows around it to avoid any falls off the bed.

Bringing the boy into the bathroom, Hannibal started the taps and then set about ridding the boy of his clothing. He decided he’d just throw it away since it wasn’t at all salvageable. He kept his eyes to himself but when he was peeling away the boy’s trousers his earlier suspicions about the boy being one of those born with female genitalia were confirmed. That answered the question about whether he was the baby’s mother or father. No doubt part of his exhaustion came from a strenuous birth.

Once the bath was filled, Hannibal lowered the boy into the water, propping his head up. He started by washing his face with a flannel, cleaning away the smears of dirt and grime. His eyes lingered a little too long then, admiring how beautiful the boy was. He had almost perfect bone structure and his features were perfectly balanced. Hannibal wondered what colour his eyes were.

Squeezing some soap onto a sponge, he cleaned the boy’s body too, being as respectful as possible. He knew that he himself would hate the vulnerability of being passed out at someone else’s mercy, of course. After shampooing the boy’s hair, Hannibal found that it was curly and a little long, though not too much. It suited his youthful look.

Draining the water, Hannibal lifted the boy out and began towelling him off. Then he carried him back to the guest bedroom and dressed him in some of his own pyjamas before tucking him under the sheets. Hannibal wasn’t aware of the boy’s circumstances, whether he lived on the street or had escaped an abusive relationship or family, but he could tell that this would be his first time sleeping on something so comfortable for a while.

Next, he had to tend to the baby. Hannibal didn’t have a lot of experience with children, given that he’d never given any thought to having his own. He’d been like a father to his sister when they were younger but he had also been a child then too. The closest he had was his godson, the child of his close friend Alana Bloom and her wife Margot. He hadn’t expected the title but it was one of the moments in his life when he’d genuinely been touched.

Supporting both the head and body, Hannibal lifted the child into his arms and carried it to the bathroom too. Laying down a towel, Hannibal lowered the baby onto it, casting aside the dirty blanket, nappy and already-tattered baby grow. Given how young the child was Hannibal was surprised at how worn the tiny piece of clothing was already, having faded from white to grey. Obviously these two had not been very well looked after, wherever they’d come from.

Hannibal began gently sponge washing the baby, noticing that she was a girl. He wondered what her name was, and what the name of her carrier was as well. The baby had woken up but wasn’t crying, just staring up at him, screwing her little face up. She had the same dark hair as the boy. Though fairly newborn, Hannibal could tell she was a little underweight. Poor thing, he found himself thinking. It was cowardly to treat something so innocent this way.

As if thinking the same, the baby began to wail again, her tiny hands clenching into fists. Hannibal wrapped her up in the towel, venturing downstairs where he knew Margot had left a bag of baby things she’d forgotten to take with her the last time she came for her therapy session and had Morgan with her. He slipped a new nappy onto the baby before dressing her in one of Morgan’s baby grows, frowning when he realised he’d done the buttons up wrong and undoing them all to start over. It was a little big because Morgan was six months old but it would do. He took the spare baby blanket from the bag and swaddled the child, holding her to his chest.

“Still crying?” He asked her, rocking her a little. “Are you hungry?” The cries didn’t stop, so he took that as a yes.

Hannibal thanked any God that existed that Margot liked to be prepared for any eventuality when he found some formula milk and a clean bottle in the bag too. He assumed that the baby was breastfed given that that was common for carriers, but food was food.

As the water for the bottle boiled, Hannibal took the opportunity to study the child. Though still softly crying to herself, Hannibal could tell that she was what most people would call a cute baby. Hannibal personally thought they all looked the same but he could tell that her tiny nose, fingers and toes would be cooed over. He saw her differently: he noticed how fragile she was. She practically disappeared in the crook of his arm and he imagined he could easily support her with his two large hands. Something flared in him, much like when he’d first found the boy out on the road, something protective. He knew that both child and carrier had been at the mercy of someone, and it made him want to kill whoever they were. He wasn’t sure how to feel since he’d never considered himself someone who really liked children.

Once he’d stirred in the formula and tested the temperature, he carried the baby into the sitting room, settling them both on the sofa. “Here we are,” he murmured, raising the baby’s head more.

She latched onto the bottle immediately, drinking like she hadn’t been fed in a while, which was probably true. It really proved how innocent children were: he’d cleaned, dressed and fed her and he’d taken care of the person who’d given birth to her, so she seemed to trust him, her eyes half-closing and her tiny fingers gripping at the cuff of his shirt. When the bottle was empty, Hannibal held her against his shoulder and rubbed her back, encouraging her to burp. When she did, thankfully not throwing up down his back as Morgan had done a few times before, he returned her to her previous position in one arm. He noticed she seemed to be nodding off again, as sleepy as newborns were, so he carried her back upstairs.

He figured he should leave the baby in the same room as the boy because they were probably so used to being close at all times. But he could tell that the boy needed rest, so Hannibal took the baby into his room. He had a bit of a problem since he obviously had nowhere to put a baby to sleep. In the end, he lay the baby down in the middle of his bed, propping pillows around her again so she didn’t roll far in the night. He himself put some extra pillows and blankets onto the chaise lounge under the window, not wanting to sleep on the bed and risk rolling onto the baby. And this way he could tend to her if she woke up and cried, allowing her parent to get his sleep.

It wasn’t exactly comfortable, given that he was a six foot man, but he managed to curl himself up enough to lie down on the chaise lounge, pulling the blanket up to his waist. Hannibal drifted off to sleep wondering about the carrier boy and his child and how exactly they’d come into his life.

He’d find out everything when morning came.


	2. A Fresh Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will becomes properly acquainted with Hannibal, Alana drags Hannibal to the mall and Will names the baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of rape in this chapter

He felt like he was floating on a cloud. Had he died? The last thing he remembered was collapsing on the ground by the side of a road, his baby girl on his chest.

Will opened his eyes, sitting up too fast and dizzying himself. He definitely wasn’t at the roadside now. No, he was lying in an unfamiliar bed with clean white sheets and wearing unfamiliar pyjamas. He also noted that he felt and smelled a lot cleaner too. Clearly the owner of this house had found him and cleaned him up.

But why? The last time Will had been left vulnerable he’d been kidnapped and raped almost daily. Those men certainly didn’t care to clean him up properly or let him sleep anywhere comfortable. They’d just left him alone in his misery until the day he suddenly hadn’t been alone anymore.

His eyes snapped around the room, panicked. Where was his daughter? He’d been holding her when he’d collapsed and now he couldn’t see nor hear her. Someone had taken her.

Leaping to his feet, stopping for a moment when his hunger and soreness caught up with him, Will darted over to the door. He had expected it to be locked, keeping him prisoner, but to his luck it was open. He slipped out, looking down a long corridor. He could tell that this house was huge. He managed to locate the stairs and tiptoed down them for fear of attracting the owner’s attention.

There were sounds coming from the kitchen. Will approached nervously, clenching his hands into trembling fists. Peering around the door, he saw a tall man with his back to him. He appeared to be trying to cook something with one hand. His other was holding Will’s baby securely against his shoulder, her little hands trying to grip onto his waistcoat. Apparently the man had dressed her too. She didn’t look in distress but Will knew by now that you could never be too careful.

Before he’d even uttered a word, the man turned, like he’d sensed Will’s presence. “Ah, you’re awake.”

“Give me my baby.” He made his voice as strong as he could.

“She’s alright, we were just-“

“Give me my baby. Please.”

The man cradled her in two hands and then held her out to Will. He took his daughter back, thankful that the man didn’t seem to be threatening them. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want anything in return for his kindness. That didn’t mean he was a good person.

He pressed a kiss to the baby’s head before looking back at the man. “Why are we here?”

“I found you lying unconscious by the side of a road with a newborn baby, so I took you in. I was just going to make us some breakfast. The child has already been fed, I had some formula milk that belongs to a friend.”

Will looked down at his daughter, stroking a finger over her head. So this man had picked him up off the streets and had been caring for his baby while he’d been unconscious? Part of him was touched to know that someone else had looked after her the way he wanted her to be looked after. But other parts of him were still cautious towards this stranger.

“Did you change my clothes?”

“Yes. I know those are fairly big on you but that’s because they’re mine. Those things you were wearing before were no better than rags.”

Will hung his head, though he knew it wasn’t his fault. “Well, thank you.” Then he remembered the soft scents of soap and shampoo. “Did you undress me completely?”

“Just to give you a bath, you were filthy.” The man seemed to catch on to Will’s train of thought, piecing together his fear with the presence of the baby and his dirty clothing. “Nothing else happened. I gave you a bath, dressed you and left you to sleep. Then I tended to your child.”

Will looked into the man’s eyes, holding his gaze. He’d always been good at empathising with people, something else that had set him apart from others, and a little bit of digging beneath the surface convinced him that this man was telling the truth. There was a mysterious air about him, tinged with something strong and dangerous, but Will was certain that that strength and danger hadn’t been used against him.

“Thank you, umm…”

“Hannibal,” the man told him. “Hannibal Lecter.”

“Hannibal.” Will tested out the name. It didn’t sound as good in his accent as it did in the man’s foreign accent that he couldn’t quite place. “I’m Will. Will Graham.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Will. And what about your daughter?”

Will glanced down at her, smiling. “I haven’t named her yet, haven’t had the chance. I’ve got a few ideas though.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to your ideas. You can go and sit in the dining room if you like, I’m almost finished here.”

Will nodded and then stepped back out into the hall. He peeked inside various rooms before he found the dining room. It was very grand, with a long table and a huge painting up on the wall. Will sat down at the left hand of the seat at the head, adjusting his daughter. She looked properly peaceful for the first time since he’d birthed her. It must have to do with the clean clothes, soap and care she had received. Will bit his lip, trying not to cry as he thought of how those things should be a given for any child. It wasn’t his fault that they’d taken him or that they’d made him pregnant and forced him to give birth there but he felt like he’d already failed as a mother.

“Here we are.” Hannibal has managed to sweep into the room unnoticed, almost like he didn’t make a sound. He placed a plate down in front of Will.

“Thank you,” Will said, trying to wipe away the tears which had already fallen.

Hannibal, to his surprise, took the seat opposite him. “Why are you upset?”

“It’s nothing. I just… I feel like a bad mother.”

“Will, I can tell that is not true. It’s obvious how much you love your daughter and just because you haven’t had the means to properly care for her doesn’t mean you are a bad mother. If you’d like, you can tell me everything.”

“What are you, some kind of psychiatrist?”

“Yes, actually,” the man replied, “but that doesn’t mean you’re obliged to tell me everything that has happened to you. If you’d prefer, we can just talk.”

“I want to tell you,” Will admitted, surprising himself. “I need to tell someone because I haven’t been able to talk to anyone but them for years and I was scared it was making me crazy.”

“Take your time,” Hannibal assured him. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Will ate some of his food first, almost moaning at how good it was. Hannibal had made eggs with sausages and grilled tomatoes, garnished with herbs that Will couldn’t identify. He could already tell that Hannibal wasn’t the sort of man to do anything by halves. It was a little awkward to try and feed himself with his sleeping daughter curled up in the crook of one arm but he didn’t want to put her down.

Halfway through the meal, he felt comfortable enough to talk. “My mom died when I was really little, so it was just me and my dad.”

Hannibal looked up. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Will gave a brief, sad smile. “I was so young that I don’t really remember it now. But I remember my dad. He was great. He taught me how to fish, even took me out on the boat with him. He used to make all these wind chimes and hang them outside the house. I didn’t need a lot else and neither did he. Everything was fine until he got sick.”

Hannibal didn’t say anything when Will paused, just gave him a look that encouraged him to keep speaking whenever he was ready.

Will continued. “I was only just eighteen when he got his diagnosis. Lung cancer. He tried to go on like everything was fine because he knew it was terminal. He’d never had a lot but he left what he could to me, wanted to make sure I was looked after. A few months later he died and left me alone in the house. But that only lasted three weeks.”

The baby in his arms shifted, as if she wanted to distract her carrier from the pain he was reliving. Will took one of her tiny hands between his fingers, stroking her soft skin.

“I’d seen those guys before, there were four of them. They came to dad’s stall a few times to buy fish from us. I think they knew how I was different, that’s why they wanted me. After that night when they came to the house all I remember is that room they kept me in, the basement in a house somewhere outside of the town. They… they used to come down there almost every day. Kept me chained up so I couldn’t get away. There was a calendar on the wall so that I always knew what day it was, how long I’d been there. I was twenty-one when I found out one of them had got me pregnant. I tried to keep it from them but they figured it out. I didn’t expect them to let me have her. Maybe they were going to give her away when she got a little older, a little less dependant on me. But she made me want to live again, so I managed to pick the locks on the chains. Then I just ran.”

“And that’s when I found you,” Hannibal nodded. He put down his knife and fork neatly on the plate. “Will, you have suffered a lot and I’m sorry for it. I know I can’t change your past but I can make your future easier. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, you and your daughter, if it’s what you want, of course.”

“I-I don’t know,” Will hesitated. It seemed to good to be true.

Again, Hannibal seemed to be able to read him, to understand what he was thinking. “I don’t expect anything from you in return, just the knowledge that you and the baby aren’t living on the streets somewhere. Those men are still out there.”

Will bit his lip. “And you don’t mind?”

“No, I’ve got plenty of room since I live alone. I’ll just have to get you some things for the child since she has nowhere to sleep.” Hannibal stood up, collecting the plates.

Will reached out and caught his wrist as he walked past. “I am grateful. I know I don’t seem it but I am. Thank you.”

Hannibal gave him a smile, his usually-neutral mask suggesting that he didn’t smile that often. “I’ll be out for a few hours I imagine, help yourself to anything you like. The basement is out of bounds though.”

Will laughed, a real feeling. “Don’t worry, I haven’t got any desire to go back into one of those any time soon.”

After Hannibal left, the baby woke up again, wailing to be fed. Will settled down on the sofa in the sitting room, lifting his shirt to allow his daughter to nurse. She quickly went quiet, curling into him again. He stroked a finger over her silky dark hair, knowing she needed a name. Now that he was safe he had all the time in the world to choose something perfect.

*****

Hannibal had to admit that, though he was a very intelligent, accomplished and cultured man, he had no idea where to start.

Seeing no other option, he called Alana, cursing inwardly at the newfangled cell phone she’d practically forced him to buy. “Alana, it’s me.”

“Hannibal, what can I do for you?”

“I need some advice, about babies.”

She must have been sipping coffee when he told her that as he could hear her spluttering and coughing for almost a minute. “What?”

“I have one in my house.”

“You… you have a baby in your house? Oh god, please don’t tell me you had an ill-advised one night stand nine months ago.”

“It’s not my baby.” He probably should have established that earlier on. “I’ve got someone staying and he hasn’t long had a baby.”

“He? So he’s a carrier?”

“Yes.”

“Why is he staying with you? You don’t know any carriers?”

Hannibal hesitated. He knew Alana would be understanding but it wasn’t his place to share Will’s story. “He’s been through a hard time and he’s got a newborn baby. It’s a long story and I don’t think I can tell you the details.”

“Okay, okay. So what advice do you need?”

“Some advice about where they sleep and what they like and how to look after them properly.”

Alana seemed to contemplate for a second. “You know what? Meet me outside the mall in twenty minutes. I’ll sort you out.”

Hannibal hated malls with a passion but he didn’t really have another option. “Okay, thank you.”

He started the car and pulled away from the house, trusting that Will and his so-far-unnamed daughter would be safe inside. The drive to the mall took him about fifteen minutes, Alana arrived after another five. She got out of the car looking a bit amused.

“I know I made you Morgan’s godfather but I didn’t really think you had much interest in children, let alone taking in one which wasn’t yours.”

“It’s just until he’s able to live safely and look after them both,” Hannibal told her, feeling like he was on the defensive.

“Okay, well, the first thing you need is a crib. Baby’s got to sleep somewhere.”

About an hour later, Alana had versed Hannibal in everything she thought he’d need to know. His mind was brilliant, he’d admit that without searching for an ego boost, but he was feeling almost overwhelmed. Still, he was nothing if not adaptable, he was sure he’d figure it out.

“I think that’s just about everything,” Alana said mostly to herself, nodding at all the bags that she’d made Hannibal carry. “Give your friend and his baby my love, I’d like to meet them soon. It would be good for Morgan to have a playmate.”

“Thank you for your help, I appreciate it.”

Hannibal drove home, feeling much more comfortable in his car by himself than he had in a mall filled with teenagers in jeans and hoodies. There was a part of him that was looking forward to actually having company in the house too. It had been nice to spend his morning looking at Will across the table, just listening to him. Normally he was the one who had to contribute everything to the conversation when he was with his patients, so he liked that Will could talk to him, even if it had been a sad story.

Will came down the stairs as he stumbled through the door. “Do you need any help?”

“I’m fine.” He regarded the baby the boy was holding. “She looks peaceful.”

“She’s been sleeping for a while. I’m sure she’ll wake up soon and need to be changed and fed again.”

“Hopefully she’ll have somewhere to sleep tonight then.”

Will glanced down at the box. “Do you know how to build a crib?”

“I’ll just follow the instructions. It can’t be that difficult.”

“Okay. I should do something, to show thanks.”

“You can change her into something that will fit her better. There’s a blanket as well.”

Will picked up one of the bags, smiling shyly at Hannibal, and slipped into the sitting room.

It took Hannibal around an hour but he managed to successfully piece together the crib, calling Will up to see what he thought. He hadn’t expected it to make the younger man cry.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just didn’t think she’d be able to experience any of this normal stuff. Sorry, I think I’m still emotional from giving birth and stuff.”

“It’s understandable, but you should know you have no reason to feel like that anymore. Here, lay her inside.”

Will carefully laid baby down on the crib’s mattress, blanket already tucked around her. “There we go.”

Hannibal was pleased with himself. “Much better.”

“Abigail,” Will said quietly.

Hannibal’s keen ears picked up on it. “What did you say?”

“Abigail, that’s her name.”

“A good name. Its origins have to do with joy.”

Will looked up at him. “How do you just know facts like that?”

“I read a lot of books. You’re welcome to borrow anything you like.”

“I’d like that. Thank you, Hannibal.”

Will reached out and slipped his hand into Hannibal’s, squeezing it. His skin was warm and soft, fitting against Hannibal’s like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Hannibal wished he’d got to commit every line and contour to memory before Will had let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not American and sometimes I forget that the show is set in America, so hopefully I haven’t slipped up anywhere. Just little things like ‘mall’ in America being called a ‘shopping centre’ in the UK


	3. A Lesson In Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will spend the day together with baby Abigail. A romantic connection begins to blossom between them.

“I was thinking you might benefit from some fresh air.”

Will looked up, startled, as if Hannibal had suggested he take part in an extreme sports competition. “Sorry?”

“After staying inside the house for a week, I thought it might be good for you to get some fresh air. Perhaps we could take Abigail out for a walk?”

Will bit his lip, fork pushing his breakfast around his plate. “I don’t know…”

“I would be right there with you the whole time,” Hannibal assured him. “There’s no need to be worried about being out in the open with other people. It will help guide you onto a path of integration back into society as well, after so many years. But of course it is your choice.”

He considered Hannibal’s suggestion. The world outside the house seemed completely alien and far away to Will, having grown used to being trapped inside the walls of a building. The simple freedom of being able to move between different rooms in Hannibal’s home was a bit overwhelming for him at first, learning that he could take his time and wasn’t going to be beaten for his curiosity. But he also knew that Hannibal was right: he had existed in the world before his kidnap and it was a beautiful world. He knew he had to pluck up the courage to face it again with his head held high because he had made a daring escape so that Abigail didn’t have to grow up only knowing four stone walls. He couldn’t let that have been for nothing by confining her to this house instead.

“Okay,” he agreed tentatively. “Maybe a walk would be good for me. And I want Abigail to get used to seeing the outside too.”

Hannibal gave one of those small smiles of his. His face was usually such a composed mask, no matter what he was doing, that Will knew his rare smiles were sincere. “Good. If you make both yourself and Abigail ready then I’m sure we can find somewhere nice to walk for you both.”

Nodding gratefully when Hannibal collected their plates to wash them in the kitchen, Will slipped upstairs and into the room which had become his own. Abigail was whining softly from the crib, the first sign of her waking up. Will lifted her into his arms, holding her closer for a moment before laying her down on the changing table.

Hannibal had actually had to help him learn how to properly put on her diaper because he’d given it his best attempt when she’d first been born but obviously hadn’t had any help or guidance. He unbuttoned the bottom of her baby grow, freeing her tiny legs. Undoing the soiled diaper, he put it inside a bag to be thrown away later and focussed on cleaning her up and then sliding on a new diaper. Abigail seemed much happier afterwards, cooing up at him.

“Isn’t that much better?” Will asked, kissing her wrinkled foot. She kicked gently up at him, making him smile at her developing mobility. She was only two weeks old so she wouldn’t start properly rolling or crawling until she was a few months though.

After changing her into clean clothing, Will sat back against the pillows with Abigail cradled against him. “I think a feed is in order and then you’ll be ready to go, won’t you?”

He lifted his shirt and helped her to latch on. Looking around the room he could hardly believe he was free and about to take his child out into the world properly for the first time. There was so much he wanted her to see but he knew he now had all the time in the world for her to experience everything. And having Hannibal there with him would definitely help, knowing he had someone protecting him and looking after his interests for once.

“You’re going to love it out there,” he whispered to Abigail. “When you get a bit older, I’ll teach you how to fish. It’s a little tricky at first but once you get the hang of it it’s easy. Your grandfather would have loved to have taught you.” He sighed, thinking of his lost family, the mother and father who would have adored his baby girl. He’d just have to love her enough for them all.

When Abigail was fed and burped, Will lay her back down in the crib and then set about readying himself for the day, dressing in some of the new clothes Hannibal had bought for him. He’d been reluctant to have the older man spend money on him but Hannibal had insisted. Will could tell from his house and his job as a successful psychiatrist that Hannibal was affluent but he still felt wary about allowing these costly kindnesses, always aware that Hannibal could one day demand something in return, something that Will didn’t want to give.

Walking downstairs with Abigail, Will found Hannibal fully dressed in another of his suits and fiddling with the baby stroller. “I think she should be completely safe in here,” he commented.

Will lay the baby inside the stroller, pulling up the hood a little to shade Abigail from the morning sunshine he knew was waiting outside. “Okay,” he said, “okay.”

Hannibal placed a hand on his arm. “Are you ready?”

Will nodded purposefully. “Yes, let’s go.”

“Very well.” Hannibal led the way out of the house, lifting the front of the stroller so Will could get it down the steps.

As they walked down the street, Will took a good look around at where Hannibal lived. The houses were all large and in a neat row with iron wrought fences and well looked after front gardens. It was a peaceful neighbourhood, something he’d only ever dreamed about. His old house had been much smaller and cramped up between many others. He couldn’t help but think that this was the ideal place to raise a family: get married, have a few children, adopt some dogs, live happily ever after.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you live alone?” He asked Hannibal. It was a valid question since the man was not married and didn’t have any children or pets. Will could imagine that having all that space for one person could get quite lonely.

“I have no remaining family to speak of,” Hannibal told him. “My parents passed away when I was younger and I was raised by my aunt and uncle. My aunt's attendant, Chiyoh, is still alive but she has remained in Lithuania. My sister, Mischa, also died when I was a boy. I miss her everyday.” He looked away for a moment, absent.

“I’m sorry,” Will said. “That must have been hard.”

“Perhaps at the time, but now I have grown used to being solitary. I find it can be quite peaceful, being able to gather your thoughts, not needing to compromise with anybody.”

“I suppose that all changes when you have children.” Will smiled down at Abigail, who was curled up under the thin blanket in the stroller.

“I have never put much thought into having children of my own, I must admit.”

“You don’t like them?”

“I do not find them unpleasant. It is more the commitment of having a spouse and a family, the things that you have to give up and the new things you have to learn.”

“Maybe you just need to meet the right person and all that will come easily to you.”

“Maybe I do.” Hannibal took his eyes off Will when he realised he’d been looking for a bit too long. The sunlight did indeed flatter him, giving his pale skin a serene glow it had previously lacked. If Hannibal hadn’t thought he was beautiful before he certainly did now.

They reached the end of the street. “Which way?” Will asked.

Hannibal pointed left. “If we follow this path there is a park not too far away. It would be good to take advantage of the weather, perhaps introduce young Abigail to nature.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Hannibal led the way, undoing his restrictive suit jacket buttons and letting it hang open.

“Do you ever dress casually?” Will had to question. “It’s just that I’ve only ever seen you in suits I think, from morning through to evening.”

“It comes with the territory, I would say,” Hannibal responded. “Of course, there is no explicit dress code for psychiatrists, especially those who work for themselves, but it stops others from making their own impressions of me.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I am professionally dressed then nothing can be deduced about my personality. Sometimes patients crave to know you but that is a barrier I do not deign to cross.”

“But you are professional at home as well? Is that just because I’m there; you don’t want me to deduce anything personal about you?”

Hannibal inclined his head, as if Will’s questions had caught him off-guard and made him think. “No, there was not been any major change since your presence in my home. Perhaps it is as you said before: I live alone so usually I have nobody around to be personal with. I believe we carve out personalities for ourselves in response to the other people in our lives, yet mine remains underdeveloped because I do not allow other people that close.”

Will wondered if the same was true for him. He’d had his father of course, his idol and the person he’d loved most in the world, so he’d been close to somebody. His personality had certainly reflected their relationship: his love of fishing and plaid shirts and boats. Now Abigail was the closest person in his life, and as she grew her personality would come to reflect him. He had to ensure his life was as full of happiness and light and love as it could be so that hers was too. He would make life perfect for her.

The park was beautiful. Even though Will had been to parks before, had frequented them in his teenage years, he still felt like a child again, looking up at the trees for the first time with all the birds in them. Hannibal settled on a bench, Will putting the brake on the stroller. He sat on the grass though, laying Abigail on her back so that she could feel the grass beneath her body and look up at the blue sky and the green leaves.

Will plucked a small yellow flower that was growing nearby. “Look at this Abigail.” He stroked it over her face, smiling when she screwed up her eyes at the sensation. Her tiny hands gripped the grass weakly, struggling to pull it out because she was only two weeks old and hadn’t yet grown into any strength. Will plucked some of that too and sprinkled it over her bare chubby legs, laughing when she kicked again.

“Here.” Suddenly Hannibal was beside him, reaching into the bottom of the stroller for something. “It isn’t too bright but I’d rather she was protected.”

Will watched him rub sunscreen onto the baby’s skin, Abigail watching him closely. Will had been reading up a bit about newborn babies and knew that they couldn’t really pay attention to you unless you were right in there viewpoint. He wondered what Abigail was thinking about Hannibal at that moment. Probably that he made her feel safe because she could tell that her carrier felt at ease around him. Will had to admit that a burst of adoration shot through his heart when Hannibal kissed Abigail’s nose before rubbing the sunscreen onto it. Maybe she would be the one who would help him develop a personality of his own away from his work.

“Thank you,” Will said when Hannibal had finished. “I didn’t even think of stuff like sunscreen.”

“There is a lot to learn and remember when it comes to children,” Hannibal assured him. “Your mind is occupied thinking about other things, like bonding with her.”

“I don’t know if I’m doing enough,” Will admitted. “I feel like I want to hold her all the time but what if she can sense it? What if she can sense that I’m not completely stable? That can’t make her feel safe.”

“You just need to be properly relaxed. Here.” Hannibal lifted Abigail and put her into Will’s arms. The older man settled himself behind Will on the grass, chest pressing against his back. His arms slipped around him, helping to support the baby he was holding. “Just hold her against you and don’t think about anything else. Make sure you’re holding her tightly but not so much as to hurt her. If she feels secure then she’ll relax easily into you.”

Will breathed out, trying to clear his mind of all other thoughts. Of course, it was hard to do that when all he was aware of was how close Hannibal was to him. He could feel the muscles of the older man’s chest and arms pressing against him, like leaning against a stone wall. When Hannibal moved his arms away and left Will holding Abigail alone, he couldn’t help but wish those arms would stay, the two of them nurturing Abigail in their own little world.

They stayed at the park for a few more hours, putting Abigail back into the stroller for the walk home. Thankfully, she stayed asleep, having grown more into a routine through the week, not even stirring when Will removed her from the stroller when they returned to the house and laid her down in her crib. Back downstairs, Hannibal was laying out his kitchen utensils for dinner.

“I’ll give you a hand,” Will offered. “It’s the least I can do.”

“You don’t have to feel obliged,” Hannibal replied.

“I want to. Honestly, I need to learn how to cook properly as well.”

“Then I’d be happy to teach you.”

Will didn’t contribute too much to the overall cooking of the meal. Hannibal showed him how to efficiently cut up the meat and vegetables, allowing him to add different herbs and oils to them before he cooked them himself with Will watching from his place by the kitchen island. Abigail had woken up and cried before dinner was ready, so Will had gone to feed her and left Hannibal to finish up.

With his daughter seen to, Will headed back downstairs to find Hannibal laying out their plates in the dining room. Once again, he’d positioned them so that they were sitting opposite each other, like equals. Will found he liked that, though it made it more difficult to keep his eyes off Hannibal while they ate. 

Dinner passed in a comfortable silence, Will eagerly devouring every scrap of food on the plate. “I don’t know how you manage to make everything you cook taste so good. Especially the meat.”

Hannibal looked at him with a look that wasn’t unkind but implied there was some sort of inside joke that only he was privy too. “I do not purchase meat from just any butcher, you could say. It’s a lot more ethical than that.”

“An ethical butcher?” Will raised an eyebrow.

“Great consideration goes into the selection of the meat.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Anyway, have you bathed your daughter yet? It would do to put her down earlier, help her get used to sleeping through the night.”

“Not yet but I think you’re right. I’ll see to her now.”

“I could help you, if you would like?”

“If you want to?” Will thought he would like that.

“Of course.” Hannibal followed Will upstairs. “I will prepare the water.”

Will went into the bedroom and lifted Abigail out of the crib. He could tell she’d been napping again, staring groggily up at him. She always looked happy to see him though, something that would never cease to make him smile. “It’s bath time for you,” he told her.

Hannibal had filled up the sink with warm water in the bathroom. “It would do to continue with sponge baths until the end of the umbilical cord has completely detached itself.”

Will nodded, forever grateful for the older man’s medical knowledge. “I can’t wait until she’s old enough for proper baths with bubbles. I think she’d like those.”

“Yes Will, I’m sure she would.”

Will took off Abigail’s baby grow and diaper, wrapping her up in a towel to keep her warm. He supported her head while Hannibal gently washed her with a washcloth, checking the water wasn’t too hot.

“I’ve heard that talking to your baby while bathing them helps them to relax,” Hannibal informed him.

“Really?” Will looked down at Abigail. “I don’t think she’ll be able to understand me.”

“No, that’s true. But she’ll recognise your voice and that will comfort her. The fact that she pays attention when you speak and call her by her name is because she knows your voice and it calms her. It will take months before she’ll start to recognise that you are calling her by her own name.”

“As long as she can tell I love her.” Will turned back to his daughter. “Isn’t that right, Abigail? I love you very much. I’ll just have to keep telling you until you’re old enough to understand what it means.”

Will kept murmuring to her as he rubbed a small amount of baby shampoo gently into the dark hair that the baby had, loving the closeness he got with his daughter. Abigail seemed to appreciate it too, not crying once in discomfort as Will and Hannibal bathed her. When she was wrapped in a towel, Will pressed his face to the top of her head, breathing in the baby scents that he had come to associate with Abigail.

“You may also try reading or singing to her,” Hannibal told Will as he helped him redress the baby in a clean diaper and baby grow. “The most important thing is making sure yours is the voice she most recognises. Newborns aren’t extremely perceptive but I’m sure that she can tell you are the one who carried her. There is a special bond between you.”

“As long as she never hears the voice of the one who fathered her,” Will said. He kissed the top of Abigail’s head, rocking her gently to lull her to sleep.

“We will make sure that never happens,” Hannibal assured him, not even noticing his use of the plural. He brushed a finger over Abigail’s cheek. “Goodnight, Abigail.”

Will put her down to sleep in her crib, pulling the cotton blanket up to her waist. Hannibal had recommended not tucking the blankets up too high in case the baby became tangled up in the night. Turning on the baby monitor, Will turned out the lights and followed Hannibal downstairs.

They walked into the sitting room and sat down on the couch. Hannibal poured himself a glass of wine and offered Will some cranberry juice as he had declined all alcohol. It felt nice. Even though Abigail was Will’s entire world, he enjoyed getting to feel like the adult he was as well, getting to spend a few peaceful minutes with another adult.

“Thank you, for today,” Will said, turning his body more towards Hannibal’s.

“You need not thank me for everything I do for you, Will, I am happy to do it. If I can be honest with you, it is quite nice to have some company in the house. There usually isn’t a lot to fill the gaps between leaving work and returning the next day.”

“I like spending time with you.” Will ducked his head.

Hannibal reached out and brushed a stray curl off Will’s face. “I like spending time with you too.”

It was like they were both magnetic, drawn towards each other by some undeniable pull that neither of them fought against. And then their lips met. Will had always thought it was cliche when kisses were likened in books and films to a firework exploding inside the chest, but he’d never experienced such a kiss until that moment. Hannibal’s lips were slightly thinner and colder than his own but it was a perfect contrast, the two of them slotting together like the last two pieces of a jigsaw.

Will was the first to pull back, hooded eyes glancing up at Hannibal. His feelings of warmth and home faded quickly to fear and apprehension. What was he doing? Hannibal had showed him kindness and he felt this was the only way to repay him? Not to mention that he’d only known this man for about a week and yet he could vividly imagine the two of them and Abigail as a family of three? What would this sophisticated, refined older man ever see worthwhile in Will? There was still so much they didn’t know about each other, still so much to be shared. And Will was supposed to be sorting things out for himself and his daughter, not relying on Hannibal to look after everything. He felt like he was taking advantage.

“Will,“ Hannibal said, hand coming up to cup his cheek tenderly.

Will didn’t reply. The moment he felt Hannibal’s hand touch his face he stood up and darted out of the room because he didn’t want to nuzzle into the touch. If he did he’d never be able to stop thinking about how good it felt, how right.

Hannibal just let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we’ve seen Hannibal wearing that iconic red jumper a few times but I find it hard to imagine him in casual clothes. He just looks so good in those suits that I can’t imagine him dressing more comfortably, and him escorting Will to the park in a suit makes him seem even more gentlemanly. It was kind of a shock seeing him in pyjamas that one time in the first season.


	4. A Friendly Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail gets her birth certificate, Margot and Alana bring their own baby over for dinner, and Hannibal makes Will feel comfortable.

The next morning Hannibal made breakfast as usual, allowing Will to come downstairs in his own time. He had admittedly paused outside the boy’s room on his way up to bed, considering knocking and talking out what had happened so that neither of them had to sleep on unspoken words, but had decided against it. This was one thing he wasn’t particularly learned in because you could not learn intimacy and emotion from books, so much as you could observe it. It wasn’t something Hannibal himself indulged in, preferring to keep the world at arms length, unless he had to choke the life out of them.

Still, he knew it was courteous to allow Will his time and let him call the shots on this one. Hannibal didn’t find his rejection rude since he was aware of Will’s past trauma and would never deign consider himself as disgustingly low as the scum who had hurt the younger man.

There was a small knock at the open kitchen door. Hannibal turned to see Will was standing nervously looking at him. “Good morning, Will.”

“Um, good morning.” It almost sounded like a question.

“How did you sleep?”

Will jogged Abigail gently in his arms. She was suckling at his shirt, her body still curled up in the foetal position against him. “I slept okay. She cried twice in the night to be fed and held.”

“I apologise, had I woken I would have come to help you.”

Will gave him a smile. “No, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

Realising the thick tension in the room, Hannibal turned down the heat on the stove and then faced Will properly. “Will, I am sorry if I was too forward with you last night. It wasn’t my intention to cause you any upset or discomfort.”

The other man shook his head. “You didn’t. I- I didn’t run away because I was upset. I can’t remember the last time I felt so comfortable. It just, it was a bit fast. And I need to be thinking of what’s best for Abigail right now. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

“You should never apologise for what impression you give. It is up to others not to take advantage of you.”

“You didn’t, you know, take advantage. I just find myself fascinated by you and I’m not sure what that means.” Will met Hannibal’s eyes properly for the first time.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Hannibal held the eye contact until Will was the first to shyly look away. “Go and get settled with your daughter in the dining room. I will have breakfast brought in shortly.”

When Will left, Hannibal turned to find the eggs in the pan starting to overcook. Shaking himself out of that temporary stupor, he began to plate up the food. He had been deliberately including a variety of different foods to make sure Will got enough different nutrients that he’d been deprived of for years. As if he didn’t already find Will’s kidnappers detestable enough, their starving of him made Hannibal want to send them straight to Hell.

Will was bouncing Abigail softly on his knee, her little eyes scrunched up at him. He had to admit it was actually an enjoyable sight in the morning, two happy faces. Perhaps having company in his home more often would not be such an ordeal. It was just that some guests had the tendency to behave in an unforgivably rude way.

“Here.” Hannibal placed Will’s plate down in front of him. “I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

Will smiled. “I always do. You’ll have to teach me how to cook so well.”

Hannibal’s lips quirked slightly, his mind envisioning teaching Will everything: from hunting the meat to cooking it in the kitchen. The boy would probably be disgusted and terrified of him, but Hannibal sensed a nervous energy in him, one which could cause him to lash out in possibly unthinkable ways. Will’s darkness was small but it was there, Hannibal knew. It just needed to be nurtured, helped to grow into its best potential. Hannibal had never had any desire for a companion in his unorthodox hobby, but he saw companionship in Will’s own desire for vengeance and bloodshed. He had reason enough, that was for sure.

“I-I’ve been thinking about something that I’d like to do today,” Will began hesitantly.

Hannibal looked up at him. “Yes? What would that be?”

“Well, I’ve given Abigail her name but she needs it officially. I want to register her birth certificate.”

“That is a good idea,” Hannibal nodded, “to have her recognise officially and legally. And, I had been thinking, it may be an idea to report your ordeal to the police.” Hannibal would have much preferred dealing with that himself, but the cards were all in Will’s hands.

There was only a moment’s pause before Will shook his head, looking adamant. “No. I know I should but- no. I don’t want Abigail growing up knowing that she was conceived in some dirty basement with a-“ He paused, eyes darting around the room, “- _man_ like that as her father. No, I just want to try and forget.”

Hannibal nodded solemnly. “It is your decision and I will not push you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

When they finished their food, Will helped Hannibal stack the plates then turned his attention to Abigail when she started fussing. “What’s wrong, hmm?” Lifting her up, he wrinkled his nose. “Ah, she needs a change.”

Hannibal nodded. “When you’re ready I will take you to have her birth certificate registered.”

“Thank you, Hannibal.”

And if he said that the way that boy said his name didn’t send a shock of thrill through him then Hannibal would certainly admit his dishonesty.

*****

Abigail Dawn Graham.

Will was happy with the name he’d chosen for her. Her first name was pretty enough by itself and her last name was a connection to his own deceased father. Her middle name had been a very recent choice and in the past he may have scoffed at such cliche but, for him, she was a type of dawn. She was the first tentative appearance of light in his life since his father had died and his world had been shattered apart.

He had chosen not to register a father’s name on her birth certificate, not wanting to honour any one of those monsters, even if he knew which one was the father. It was no matter: he’d come up with a story to tell Abigail about why her father wasn’t in her life when she got older. He’d make sure to shield her from the terrible truth and keep her life as light as he could.

It had helped having Hannibal by his side, helping translate some of the legal jargon into simpler terms for him. He’d also been happy to hold Abigail and entertain her while Will signed and went over everything.

“Thank you for that,” Will said, turning to Hannibal when they were outside in the car, Abigail strapped into her baby seat in the back of Hannibal’s scarily expensive car.

“There is no need to thank me, Will,” Hannibal replied. “Now, I hope you don’t mind but I need to stop at the grocery store on the way home. I’m having two friends over for dinner tonight.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll make sure I keep out of the way.”

“That won’t be necessary Will, I’d like you to join us. I don’t have many close friends so I’d be happy to introduce them to you.”

Will bit his lip, considering. “If you’re sure. I mean, if they’re your friends then I’m sure they’ll be nice.”

“They are indeed, very polite. They have a baby son too so I’m sure they can give you some advice.”

Will smiled. “Okay. It just seems a bit odd to me that you only have a few close friends, I imagined you’d have lots of colleagues and associates.”

The side of Hannibal’s mouth twitched up momentarily. “Well, I have had many a friend for dinner in my time but I’m quite particular about who I associate most closely with.”

As they walked around the grocery store together, Hannibal told Will all about his friends, Alana and Margot. It turned out that Alana was a student-turned-friend, who Hannibal had helped mentor into the successful psychologist that she was today. Margot was her wife whom she’d also met through Hannibal. She’d been in therapy at the time, getting over the abuse her brother had put her through, and she still had some therapy sessions with Dr. Lecter. Their son was called Morgan and Hannibal was actually his godfather. Will sensed that Hannibal held Alana in high regard, both professionally and personally, so he hoped she wouldn’t be too unimpressed by the stray young man and child he had picked up off the streets.

“I believe that’s everything,” Hannibal said, nodding at their grocery cart.

“Don’t you need any meat for dinner?” Will asked, noting that they’d mostly picked up vegetables, herbs, ingredients for dessert and good wine.

“I already have that taken care of,” Hannibal assured him. “I do not usually purchase meat from grocery stores.”

Back in the house, Hannibal had Will start washing chopping the vegetables after he’d put Abigail down for a nap. She was at the very young age when she wouldn’t do a lot more than sleep and eat, though she still needed all of Will’s attention. Though of course he loved her more than anyone else in the world, Will enjoyed having a little bit of time to himself, time to spend with another adult.

“I don’t often have help in the kitchen,” Hannibal told him.

“High standards?” Will asked.

“Particular standards,” Hannibal corrected. “Not a lot of people truly appreciate the art of good cooking. Presentation is almost as important as taste. Not many people consider all aspects of a good meal.”

“Well, I definitely think your food looks good, if that’s any consolation.” Will offered a smile. If he was honest, he’d probably be one of the people Hannibal didn’t consider proper connoisseurs but he enjoyed listening to Hannibal talk about something he obviously had a passion for. “And do you ever eat dinner without wine?”

“Only the best wine, perfectly brewed.”

“Can you tell the difference?”

“One could say my tastes are quite refined.”

When the food was prepared, with Hannibal taking the lead with laying everything out, the doorbell rang. “Would you be able to answer that for me, Will? There’s just a few more things I need to prepare, I won’t be long.”

Will nodded, though he felt cold dread clench his stomach at the thought of being alone with strangers. Even though they’d not long met, Hannibal made him feel safe and protected. But he’d settle for knowing that the older man was just a room away. Steeling himself, he went to the front door and opened it. Outside stood two brunette women, one in a stylish checkered suit and red blouse with matching lipstick, the other in an expensive looking black and white dress. The second woman was holding the baby, joggling him on her hip. He was cute, sucking on his own small hand and getting drool all over himself.

“Hello,” said the woman in the suit, “I’m Alana. You must be Will.”

He forced his voice to work. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you. Hannibal is just finishing something in the kitchen, so he asked me to answer the door.”

“I’m Margot,” said the other woman as they stepped inside the house, Will closing the door behind them. “It’s nice to meet you too. This is Morgan.” She indicated the baby.

There was a cry from upstairs, all three of them turning their heads in its direction. Alana smiled warmly at him. “Ah yes, Hannibal mentioned that you’d recently had a child.”

“Yes, I should go to her. Please excuse me.”

Will dashed up the stairs, heading for his room. Abigail was wailing inside the crib, little eyes swivelling around for him. He lifted her up and sat on the bed, already lifting his shirt to allow her to feed. She quietened instantly, happily accepting the milk he had to offer. There was still some discomfort when he breastfed but he wouldn’t want to give it up. It was the most loving contact he’d had while locked up, after all, getting to care for someone for once.

When he had his daughter fed and burped, Will carried her downstairs, knowing she’d be up for a while after her nap. Alana and Margot had taken their seats in the dining room beside each other. Will sat down opposite Alana with Abigail snuggled against his shoulder.

“She’s very sweet,” she told him. “Though I’m sure she keeps you up at night.”

“Yes but I wouldn’t want it any other way. I like that she needs me.”

Margot nodded. “I know how you feel. There’s nothing more pure than the connection between a parent and child. Sometimes I think I don’t ever want Morgan to grow up and get bigger. I like that I can hold him and know that he’s safe when he’s with me.” Her eyes shone.

Alana placed her hand over her wife’s, the two of them sharing a moment through just that simple contact that it almost made Will want to look away and give them their privacy. They were obviously in love deeply and now that they had their son had a perfect family. He didn’t want to feel jealous and resentful but he couldn’t help it. Why was it so easy for some people? Why hadn’t he been blessed with meeting a man he loved and having his baby? Abigail was the only blessing of a horrendous ordeal.

It was then that Hannibal entered the dining room, balancing plates along his arms. “Alana, Margot,” he said, nodding at them both. He spoke with a tone of warm familiarity. “I’m glad you could make it tonight.” He laid out the plates. “And how is young Morgan?”

“Progressing very well,” Alana told him, smiling proudly. “He’s already able to sit up and roll over by himself. I know it won’t be much longer before he’s learning to walk.”

“That is good to hear. And I see you’ve met Will and Abigail?”

“Yes, I have a feeling this will be a very pleasant dinner.”

And she was right, Will thought. Dinner was actually quite enjoyable. Hannibal’s food was as lovely as always. Margot laid Morgan down on his mat while Will laid Abigail in her Moses basket so that they could have an adult meal. Hannibal and Alana shared professional conversation, which filled the silence comfortably. Will didn’t know anything really about psychology or Hannibal’s work so he liked listening to Alana speak in that matter-of-fact tone, trying to memorise what he could for future reference. He got the impression that Margot was the quieter personality, but she lit up when she spoke about her son and all the plans she had. It was obvious that she relished being a mother above all else, and Will could identify with that.

After dinner, Hannibal turned to Alana. “I have those essays that you asked for. If you follow me to my office, I’ll find them for you.”

“That would be great.”

Margot smiled at Will. “We can go and sit with the children in the sitting room, if you’d like?”

After taking in Hannibal’s approving look, Will nodded. “Yes, I’d like that.” And he knew that he would. He took a liking to both of Hannibal’s friends, but Margot didn’t intimidate him in the way that Alana’s general presence did.

So, he followed her into the sitting room. Morgan was rolling over on his mat, clutching his toy teddy and shoving the ear into his mouth. Will carefully lifted Abigail and held her in the crook of his arm, stroking his fingertip over her tiny, sweet face.

Margot was watching him. “She is a beautiful baby. She looks like you.”

“Do you really think so?”

She nodded. “Yes, you can see it in her nose and mouth and the shape of her face. Very sweet.”

“Morgan’s really cute too,” he said.

Margot leaned down and picked her son up, sitting him on her lap. “I always wanted a Verger baby of my own blood because of the inheritance of my father’s estate, but I actually think I’m more blessed to have a child with no biological connection to my family.”

Will tilted his head. “So Alana carried the baby?” He’d assumed it had been Margot. Not that Alana didn’t seem maternal, just that Margot seemed almost spiritually attached to their son. Then he realised his own nosiness. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, that’s alright. Yes, Alana carried Morgan with sperm from a sperm bank. I…” She hesitated, looking him in the eye. “I don’t mean to pry either, but Hannibal mentioned that you’d had a bit of a tough time too. I thought that maybe I’d be comfortable talking to you. It’s not quite the same as telling everything to a therapist.”

Will understood. “No, I don’t mind. We can speak about whatever you’d like.”

Margot sighed. “I’ve got a brother, Mason. As the male heir, he is beneficiary to the Verger estate. The only loophole was for me to have a male child in order to claim my own inheritance. But Mason didn’t want that. He likes control. So he made sure I could never had one.”

Will felt his heartbeat speed up a little. “What did he do?”

Margot’s hand went unconsciously to her abdomen. “He had his personal doctors take everything. They even left a scar so that I’d be forever reminded about how I’m now infertile.”

“That’s- that’s horrible.” Will was at a loss for words at how many awful people existed in the world. “I’m so sorry.”

Margot smiled but her eyes were sad. “I thought he’d beaten me. It’s probably the worst thing he ever did to me, though there are others that I don’t even bear thinking about. But then I met Alana.” Something seemed to come alive inside her when she said her wife’s name. “She helped lift me up, made me realise that having the Verger estate wouldn’t make me happy. It was when I moved in with her and left Mason behind that I actually started living. Then we got married and had Morgan. Maybe everything does work out in the end.”

Will found himself smiling at her own happy ending. “Maybe it does.”

Margot looked at him knowingly. “You know, I think it could for you as well.”

Will pondered that last comment, even after Alana, Margot and Morgan had left for their own home. It was only when he caught sight of Hannibal cradling Abigail in his larger hands that he actually let himself believe maybe he could be happy too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I changed Margot's story a little to fit the fic. She escaped Mason after what he did and married Alana, but none of the murder stuff with Hannibal happened.


	5. A Restless Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail is unwell, Will has a panic attack and Hannibal makes a deadly promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is a flashback in this chapter which includes rape aftermath and leads to a panic attack. Please be aware!
> 
> (I also hope I'm using Fahrenheit correctly as where I'm from we use degrees Celsius so I'm not very familiar with it)

“Hannibal!”

Hannibal was rudely awoken by a shout of his name and a series of loud thumps at his bedroom door. Sitting up blearily, he recognised that it was Will’s frantic voice that had roused him and any anger he felt instantly evaporated. The urgent knocking continued as Hannibal tried to untangle himself from the bedsheets.

“Will? Come in.”

The door flew open and Will rushed in with Abigail in his arms. Hannibal noticed that Will’s face was white as a sheet and Abigail was whimpering unhappily in his arms. Will hurried over to the bed, looking imploringly at the older man.

“Will, what’s happened?”

“Something’s wrong with Abigail. Look!” Will gestured at his daughter. “She’s really hot and she keeps crying but I don’t know what’s wrong!”

“Here, let me see.” Hannibal gently took the baby from Will, pressing his hand to her forehead. “Yes, she does feel warm. Will, downstairs in one of the kitchen cupboards I’ve got a thermometer. Could you go and get it please?”

Nodding, Will practically tore out of the room and Hannibal could hear his feet thumping down the stairs. Abigail whined again, so Hannibal held her close to his chest. She rested her head against him, her small hands grasping his chest hair and pulling. Luckily she wasn’t very strong. He could feel the heat radiating off her little body.

Will came back in, almost throwing the thermometer at Hannibal. The older man adjusted his hold on the baby, unbuttoning her baby grow and putting the thermometer into her armpit. Holding her am down over it, he waited for thirty seconds until the temperature was read.

“100 degrees Fahrenheit,” Hannibal said, holding out the thermometer.

“That’s high!” Will replied frantically. “I told you, she’s sick!”

“Will, calm down,” Hannibal tried to sooth him. “Yes, Abigail has a fever. But we can look after her here. I used to be a surgeon before I was a psychiatrist so I know about medicine and it isn’t difficult to treat a fever, we just have to make sure her temperature doesn’t get any higher.”

Will nodded, though he still looked unsure. “Okay.”

Hannibal could feel Abigail sweating through her baby grow. “Here, we’ll give her a bath to cool her down. With lukewarm water though, not cold water.”

Once the bath was run, Hannibal lowered her into it, supporting her head. Will began to wash his daughter carefully.

“This should help you cool down, Abigail,” he said. “I don’t know a lot about all this stuff but Hannibal does so he’s going to make you all better, you’ll see.”

When the baby was bundled up in a towel and Will was cuddling her, Hannibal took her temperature again. “Still the same,” he told Will. “But at least now she’s clean and not sweating anymore. Look, her cheeks aren’t as flushed anymore, see?”

Will pressed his lips to the top of Abigail’s head. “So what do we do now? Are you sure we don’t need to call a doctor?”

“If her fever gets any worse then we will take her to a doctor, Will,” Hannibal assured him. “You need to make sure she’s fed regularly and not wrapped up in too many clothes or blankets.”

Will nodded, sitting down on Hannibal's bed. "I'll feed her now. She must be hungry because she kept waking up in the night."

Hannibal averted his eyes as Will raised his t shirt to accommodate the baby, wanting to give them some privacy. He noticed that he was still shirtless and in nothing but pyjama bottoms, so he gathered some clothes and went into the bathroom to change. He was sure Will wouldn't object since it was Hannibal's room but he didn't want to make the boy uncomfortable by stripping in front of him, given what he'd been through.

When he was looking as neat and smart as usual with teeth and hair brushed, Hannibal stepped out of the bathroom and headed back to the bedroom. Will was no longer feeding, instead cuddling his daughter close. His eyes looked teary.

"Will? Has something else happened?" Hannibal crouched down, placing his hands on Will's thighs and looking into his eyes.

"She didn't feed as long as usual," Will explained. "She won't latch on again but she must still be hungry."

"With fever in young babies, it is important to offer regular feeds to help avoid dehydration and hunger; however, if the baby refuses the feed then it is best not to force it. She will cry again when she is hungry and then you'll be able to feed her again."

"Okay, so long as you're sure."

Hannibal nodded, thinking. "Some fresh air might be good for her. Not out anywhere in public, just in the back garden. I'll admit I haven't done a lot with it as gardening is not one of my skills, but it is pleasant enough to sit in."

Will agreed and, after dressing Abigail in a light dress and dressing himself, he followed Hannibal downstairs. 

"I will make breakfast and bring it out to you," Hannibal told him.

Will slipped through the back doors of the house and stepped into a large garden. Hannibal was telling the truth when he said he hadn't done much with it. The grass was cut and there were a few trees at the far end. The only human alteration was the addition of a pretty wooden bench swing which Will sat down on, gently rocking back and forth.

There was so much space which he could imagine being filled. He thought of when Abigail would grow a little more and learn to walk. She would definitely enjoy playing in a garden as large as this one. Will imagined every morning being the same: Hannibal inside making breakfast, Will outside with Abigail, both of them waiting happily for the man who had taken them in. They could be his family.

Hannibal served fresh berries for breakfast and Will wanted to ask if he picked them himself, though he couldn’t see any fruit plants or trees in the garden. He took Abigail for a slow walk through the garden, hoping she’d fall asleep. When he felt her curl up more against his chest, he walked back to Hannibal and sat on the bench beside him.

“I would have loved a big garden like this, back when I was living with Dad,” he confided. “I mean, he took me down to the docks to go fishing but it would have been nice.”

“I find that I may prefer this space now that I have someone to share it with,” Hannibal replied. “Usually I don’t sit outside very often.”

“No garden parties then?”

“No, I only ever host dinner parties in my dining room. It has been that way for years.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a big deal.”

“There is nothing more satisfying than the appreciation of good cooking,” Hannibal told him. His lips quirked, as though in a private joke with himself. “Especially when you can have a friend for dinner.”

Will gave a small smile. “I don’t think I’d fit in too well there.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Will,” Hannibal said. “That is why you’re much more suited to this area, outside, free. I don’t think you’d be quite at home making stifling conversation about opera.”

“You like opera?”

“I find it fascinating because it is an art. The same way that famous paintings and sculptures are art. But art is a distraction from reality, something beautiful we can consider when we must step away from the real world.”

“Sometimes a distraction is a good thing.”

“I agree, but I don’t think we should let ourselves get too distracted. There are many worthwhile arts in everyday life.”

“Really?” Will thought Hannibal would forgive him for being skeptical.

“Yes. You may just have to look a little harder.”

They went inside when the cool morning air began nipping at them, making Will shiver. Hannibal prepared a light lunch. Abigail woke up to be fed and then fell asleep again almost straight after, so Will laid her down on her mat to sleep.

That left Will and Hannibal sitting together in the sitting room. Hannibal had lit a fire in the fireplace to warm the room a little, and Will sidled up the couch to be closer to it. Just the addition of two more people to the house made it feel more like a home.

Hannibal’s nostrils flared suddenly, smelling something sharp. Blood. His eyes flicked worriedly down to Abigail where she was lying on her play mat, but she was just as still as before, napping soundly. Then he looked to Will, noticing that he was clutching a hand to his stomach, grimacing.

“Will? Have you hurt yourself?”

Will looked towards him, eyebrows drawn together in discomfort. “Not like that. I think I’ve started… bleeding again.”

Hannibal blinked, then understood. “Oh, I see.” Not the most intelligent response from a man with an extensive education.

Will groaned. “And now I don’t have any products for it.”

"Ah, I had, erm, prepared for that eventuality," Hannibal told him, scratching the back of his neck.

"What do you mean?" Will asked.

"I purchased such products a while back with the presumption that you may soon be needing them. They're in the bathroom, the cabinet under the sink."

“Oh… thank you, Hannibal. Will you watch Abigail?”

Hannibal waved a hand dismissively. “Of course I will.”

So Will hurried up the stairs, stopping off in his bedroom to grab another pair of underwear on the way. Then he closed the bathroom door, not bothering to lock it since Hannibal wasn’t the sort of person to just come barging into room without knocking, and opened the bathroom cabinet. Sure enough, there were a few boxes of tampons there.

He sighed, grabbing a box and opening it. He’d grown used to the secret part of himself but he was reminded of exactly what it meant every month when this happened. He also knew that it was the only reason he had Abigail. That didn’t mean that he didn’t resent his body sometimes though.

He managed to insert the tampon easily enough, moving to pull on his new boxers and his jeans. It was as he was doing them up when he realised there was some blood on the floor. Not much but it stood out on the white tiles, a dark stain.

Will’s jaw began to tremble, his throat constricting as his eyes refused to look away from the blood. The logical part of his brain knew it was only because of his period but he couldn’t stop thinking about the other times he’d seen his blood spill onto the floor that way.

 

*****

_Blood on the floor. His blood. Fresh._

_It could have come from anywhere. The gashes on his ankles due to the chains cutting into his skin, the scrapes on his bare feet from where they’d scrambled for purchase on the stone floor, his fists with knuckles cracked from putting up another fight. Never a successful one, though._

_But he knew it was most likely coming from between his legs where he could feel the burn of the several men who had taken him against his will. He just prayed that he hadn’t been torn, knowing that that pain was excruciating. The insides of his thighs felt warm and wet and he knew he’d see red if he looked down._

_Squeezing his eyes shut, wondering how he even had any tears left to shed after this had been happening for so long, he turned away from their leering smiles and crawled back towards his bed. It looked pitiful but Will had no energy left for pride._

_“Don’t be like that,” one of the men said, placing his foot firmly on the back of one of Will’s knees, stopping him from getting too far. “Nothing to cry about.”_

_“Stop.” That one word, cracked and airy, had been spoken too many times and acknowledged far too little._

_“Now, now, don’t want to upset the baby, do we?’_

_Will’s hand moved onto his bump, swollen at about five months, though he didn’t even register doing it. He would have cursed the thing did he not pity it so much, even more than he pitied himself. It was half of one of them. And the first thing it saw would be this._

_All this red._

*****

 

Will wasn’t sure when he’d ended up on the floor, but he could feel it below him, something solid and hard to help ground him. He rolled away from the red mark on the tiles, closing his eyes and hitting himself in the forehead to banish the image from his brain.

Suddenly he couldn’t breathe. His throat felt like it was closing, the walls pressing together, making his chest ache. Was he dying? Could bad memories really be enough to kill him? He tried to grab his throat but the trembling of his hands left his grip loose and powerless. They fell to his sides uselessly.

He heard a knock at the door, barely audible over his pounding heart. “Will?” That was Hannibal’s voice. “You’ve been a while, is everything alright?”

Will tried but he couldn’t open his throat wide enough to choke out Hannibal’s name. All that came out was a low whine that sounded more like a wheeze, like he had no breath left to form the words.

Hannibal, after knocking again and receiving no answer, decided that checking on Will was a higher priority than being a gentleman and opened the door, walking straight in. When he saw Will on the floor clutching at his throat, he stopped still.

“What’s happened Will?” Hannibal rushed towards him, kneeling down and putting his hands on Will’s knees. The other man was now sat with his back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest.

“Ca-“ He gasped for breath. “Can’t breathe”.

“Will, I think you’re having a panic attack,” Hannibal told him. “I need you to breathe for me, in through your nose, slowly.”

Will shook his head, unable to see anything but the colour red, though Hannibal’s face was all he could see in front of him.

“Concentrate on my voice, Will. Breathe in now, slowly.”

Will sucked a harsh breath in through his nose, feeling the air burn. He quickly breathed out, not feeling in control of how his own body worked.

“Try again. Try to breathe slowly and gently.”

Will tried again, this time succeeding in drawing a slow breath in through his nose. His exhale was shaky but he felt a little calmer with some air inside his lungs. He closed his eyes as he took the next breath, focusing on nothing but that. Hannibal’s soothing voice was muted inside his head as he instead internally counted to five before exhaling once more for another count of five. After repeating this several more times, he began to feel in control of his breathing, the counting of the numbers clearer in his head.

Minutes could have passed or hours, but eventually Will felt his breathing starting to even out. He came back to himself, the two of them sitting in silence until Will trusted his voice enough to speak.

“Where’s Abigail?” Will asked.

“She is still asleep downstairs. I put her in her basket before coming to check on you, so she won’t come to any harm should she wake up. I need to focus on you at the moment. Have you ever had a panic attack before, Will?”

Will shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I've felt useless and like a prisoner in my own body before, but never like that. I’ve never felt like I was going to die because I couldn’t breathe properly.”

“And what brought it on?”

Will hesitated. “It was… the blood.” He pointed behind Hannibal. “I saw my blood on the floor and it made me think of when I’d seen my blood on the floor before. Back after I was… raped.”

Hannibal sighed. “You have been through so much. Too much for someone still so young. It is understandable that you are traumatised by what happened to you Will, it must only be sinking in as much as that how that you know you are safe and comfortable. You have nothing to be ashamed about. I would like to help you.”

“I don’t think anyone can help me.” Will wrapped his arms around himself, head bowed so his chin almost met his chest.

“I am a psychiatrist Will, and while it is considered unprofessional to make friends or family members my patients, I could bend the rules slightly for you.”

“How?”

“I could unofficially be your therapist. So you would not have regular appointments scheduled on a certain day or at a specific time. Instead, you tell me when you would like to talk and open up to me, and I will do my very best to help you. What do you think?”

Will pondered it. He knew that sooner or later he’d need to see a therapist to help get his life back on track and come to terms with all that he’d suffered, but he didn’t like the idea of telling this all to a stranger who, though professional, could be judging him or not understanding him. He’d already told Hannibal what had happened and how he’d come to be locked away, he just hadn’t gone into the specifics of everything that he’d suffered. It would be hard, and maybe he’d never be able to tell everything, but he knew that Hannibal made him feel comfortable, and the idea of an unofficial therapist was more approachable than the alternative: being an official patient and having to bare his soul for a designated hour of another person’s time.

“I think I’d be okay with that,” he told Hannibal. “But only when I feel like I can share stuff with you.”

Hannibal nodded. “I am a patient man, Will, so whenever you decide you’re ready to speak with me I will be waiting.”

It was still early evening, but Will wasn’t feeling up to dinner, his panic attack having drained him of all his energy. Hannibal helped him to bed and ate dinner alone, feeding Abigail with expressed milk that Will had stored in the fridge.

Abigail didn’t fall asleep straight after her feed and Hannibal took her temperature again. He was pleased to see that it had lowered, though he decided that he’d have her sleep the night in her Moses basket in his room, both so he could easily tend to her and also so Will could pass a restful night after being up several times the night before.

Hannibal rocked the baby in his arms. It reminded him of holding Mischa close to him. She hadn't been a baby but she was much smaller than him and had loved his hugs and when he'd lift her up and swing her around. Sweet Mischa, she'd been just as innocent as Abigail. He'd consumed her, consumed the innocence and joy which she brought to his life so that he could carry it with him always after her death. But now he had Abigail, and he was determined to protect her like he hadn't been able to protect his sister.

"You have nothing to fear, little one," he told her, stroking a silky lock of hair off her forehead as her eyelids drooped. "No harm will come to you here. Now we just need to make sure your mother recovers."

Dark thoughts flashed through his head. He saw himself tearing out the throats of Will's rapists with his teeth, plucking out their eyes, cutting off their genitals while they were still breathing. He would make them hurt, make them pay. He wasn't sure if it was safe to reveal his true nature to Will yet, not sure if he'd run away and alert the police. So he'd use their therapy sessions to gain information, and then when he had enough, he would strike.

"I promise I'll kill them all Abigail," he said, his gentle cradling of the baby a contradiction of the brutal violence he was threatening. "I'll avenge what happened to your mother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never had a panic attack myself, nor have I ever been in the presence of someone experiencing one, so I based the portrayal of it here from research done online. The sources I looked at are quite reliable medical sources but if anything is portrayed inaccurately then I apologise.


	6. A Traumatic Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Will's past before he collapsed on the roadside and was rescued by Hannibal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for kidnapping and rape in this chapter!
> 
> This chapter is all in italics because it's a flashback from the present time of the story.
> 
> Also I borrowed a line from 'The Silence of the Lambs' (still an amazing film!)

_Will unscrewed the lid on the bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a small glass. Just one drink. It had been a tough day, after all. He’d paid for his father’s headstone, three weeks after his death, and he’d go for the first time since the funeral to visit his grave the following day._

_Looking around, the house seemed so much bigger now that he was the only one living in it. It wasn’t really that big, just enough for two people, but Will was acutely aware of the single pair of shoes by the door and the single jacket hanging on the back of the chair. Just one, not two, not anymore. He felt small inside the house, sitting in the chair his father preferred and drinking the older man’s whiskey._

_There wasn’t anyone else around for him now. He was eighteen years old, finished with school, and entering into adulthood alone. His mom had died when he was very young, barely even a memory, and his father was estranged from his own family so Will didn’t know any of them. He’d always been the weird, quiet kid throughout school, too uncomfortably empathic to get close to any of the other students. He usually enjoyed his isolation, it was his own choice, but he didn’t like feeling so small in the world._

_A harsh knocking at the door caught his attention. He wasn’t expecting anyone and not many people lived in this area of town. Against his better judgement, he stood up and opened the door. Outside were four men, all older than him._

_“I think you’ve got the wrong house,” he told them._

_The closest man smiled at him. “Nah, we’re definitely in the right place.”_

_Will frowned, assuming that they had to be drunk, and attempted to close the door. He was stopped by a hand holding it open. “What are you doing?”_

_“No need to be rude, is there?” The man shoved the door open wider, walking in with the other three close behind him._

_Will followed after them into the sitting room, eyes flitting to the set of drawers next to the window. He knew that his father’s gun still sat in the top drawer. It was just a matter of getting to it without the men noticing._

_“What are you doing here?” Talking calmly to avoid angering them was probably the best way to go, he decided. Just until he could form a more solid plan._

_“Where’s your old man then?” One of them asked instead of answering, sitting down by the window and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Bit fucking irresponsible, leaving a pretty young thing like you home alone. Anything could happen.”_

_“He’ll be back soon,” Will lied, hoping to persuade them to leave. “You’d better go before he gets back.”_

_“See that’s interesting,” replied the man who’d forced open the door. “Because I’ve been keeping an eye on you, and you were burying your father only a few weeks ago. Don’t think you’ll be seeing him again for a long time yet.”_

_“You’ve been watching me?” Will was unnerved that his plan had been thwarted but he was more afraid of the fact that this man who he didn’t know had been following him and had even spied on him during his father’s funeral. He had many questions but the one he really wanted answering was ‘why?’_

_“Had to make sure no one snatched you up first. Bet a lot of men have had their eye on you, seeing you every day at that stall. Even the smell of fucking fish couldn’t cover up how lovely you are.”_

_He recognised the four men, he’d seen them at the stall before. They’d bought fish from his father. Will remembered helping to wrap it up. But that stall didn’t give the impression that Will and his father had a lot of money, and they didn’t. So why were these men in his house?_

_“There isn’t much of value here,” he informed them. “So I think you’ll be disappointed.”_

_One of the men walked towards Will, smiling. “I know what you are.”_

_“What?” Will backed up, ending up pressed against the wall with nowhere to go._

_The man leaned down, whispering in his ear. “I can smell you. I can smell your cunt.”_

_Will’s heart was in his mouth. “You’re… I don’t know what you think you know but you’re wrong. You must have me confused with someone else.”_

_The man sat by the window smoking laughed. “Why don’t you show us then?”_

_“Show you what?”_

_He let out another puff of smoke. “Come on, pretty boy. Show us that you don’t have a pussy under those clothes.”_

_Will shook his head, whispering, “just go.”_

_The man who he took to be the leader leaned against the doorframe, his height looming down into the room. “I never used to understand how boys could be, you know, like you. Thought it was just some fantasy people came up with. But I walked in on one of them in high school and I’ve been dying to fuck one ever since.”_

_Will took his chance, darting out from where he was pressed between the muscled man’s body and the wall, shooting towards where the gun was concealed. But the fourth man who had so far simply sat and watched was up quicker than Will could see him, catching hold of the smaller boy and slamming him against the wall. Will fell to the ground, groaning._

_The man opened the drawer and pulled out the gun. “That was a stupid thing to do, don’t you think?” He threw the weapon onto the couch, out of Will’s reach._

_The tall man in the doorway walked over, crouching down to stroke a hand through Will’s curls. “Stupid little thing. Are you a virgin?” When Will didn’t answer, he tugged on his hair. “Answer me!”_

_With a whimper, Will nodded. “Yes.”_

_“Well, aren’t you a good boy? Keeping yourself for marriage?”_

_Will had no intention of getting married. It was one prospect that filled him with absolute, undeniable dread. He found himself mostly attracted to men but the idea of being with one, of exposing himself entirely, of being taken any way deemed fit, terrified him. And he had briefly entertained the idea of simply looking to date a woman after he’d developed a crush in high school on a kind girl called Molly but that presented its own list of doubts. Would any of them want him when they found out what it was that made him different from other men?_

_“Fuck you.”_

_The man laughed. “If you haven’t already guessed, I’d like to fuck you. I think we all would. We don’t get a lot of opportunities to fuck because of what we do. But having something pretty around would be a nice change.”_

_So that was it? He was going to be raped in his own home, at the mercy of four brutes, closing his eyes and praying that the afterlife wasn’t real so that his father wouldn’t witness it. All he’d done to protect Will in life would have been for nothing._

_“Don’t touch me.” Will lunged up, attempting to bite a chunk out of the man’s cheek. The back of a hand snapped across his face before he could make contact._

_“Dumb fucking whore!” He was rewarded with a harsh kick to the ribs, sending him sprawling on his back._

_“Boss, let’s just take him.” That was the man who’d thrown him into the wall. “The longer we hang around here the more likely it is that someone’s gonna show up. And I’m not ending up back inside, not after last time.”_

_“Good idea.” The man bent close to whisper in Will’s ear. “You’re mine now.”_

_That was the last thing will heard before he was hit again, this time over the head, and he blacked out._

_*****_

 

_The next time he woke up it was in his own living hell, complete with chains and everything._

_It didn’t take Will long to become accustomed to his new home. There was only one room, the basement. It was dark and dingy, light only thrown into the room by one window which he couldn’t reach because his chains didn’t allow him to move that far. Of course, there was more to the house but Will hadn’t seen it. The first things he’d seen upon waking were the four walls of the basement and he knew that they’d be the only things he’d ever see again for the rest of his life, however long that life would be._

_Once more he cursed his body. He’d felt wrong in it before, felt nervous and different. He was the only boy in his school who had had to change in a separate cubicle before doing sports so that he wasn’t accidentally exposed to the other boys. He cursed his mother and father for the genes that they’d passed on to him, but then he wept for them, for the dead people who were supposed to protect him._

_Now he felt like a sacrificial lamb left at the mercy of four wolves. And they took every chance they had to come down to the basement and tear him apart._

_They’d tried to conceal their names from him at first, lurking in the shadows of anonymity, but eventually he’d listened to enough conversations to be able to tell them apart._

_There was Lee. He was about six foot tall, blonde, lanky. He didn’t have a lot of muscle to build out his height, but his eyes were the coldest and most intimidating shade of grey that Will had ever seen. He was clearly the leader, the one the others all seemed to look to for approval. He was always the first to start tormenting Will, turning him into an entertainment act, one to be humiliated and crushed._

_Next was Luke. He had dark hair and dark skin, his eyes brown like Will’s father’s had been but without the same warm depth. He was more muscular, so whenever Will acted out he could easily wrestle the young boy back into place, making him regret ever even thinking that he could fight back. Will had some scars that he wasn’t aware he had received, such was the precision of the man’s brutality._

_Then there was George. He was the shortest of the group, about Will’s height, but Will had no illusions about him. He was the cruellest, quick to refuse Will food and water when he misbehaved, intentionally tightening the chains around his wrists so that they’d hurt him. He even blacked out the only window in the basement until Will had cracked and begged for some light. His blue eyes looked gentle but he was the complete opposite._

_Lastly there was Elijah. He had a shaved head, a large scar visible over the left side of his skull. He was as dangerous and fearsome as the rest but he seemed to have a strange soft spot for Will. He was the only one that kissed him before assaulting him. He also brought him extra blankets in the winter months and once gave him water when the others had denied him it. But if Will ever dared flinch away from an advance he’d growl so deeply in his chest that he didn’t even need to open his mouth to make the sound._

 

_*****_

 

_The first clue for Will was when he stopped bleeding every month. He’d wished for that when he was younger but he knew that the only way it could happen would be pregnancy. He was still too young. That taunting calendar was still hung up on the wall so Will could count the days himself. He’d been held for about three years._

_Most of the time the men used condoms but sometimes they didn’t, either because they forgot or didn’t want to use any. But Will didn’t tell them anything about what he suspected. Instead, he just let life go on as he’d become used to, hoping that he was mistaken. When he was a child and having nightmares his father had told him that those things were only real if he believed in them. Perhaps if he chose not to believe now, it wouldn’t come true._

_But he slowly but surely became rounder around the middle and he knew he wasn’t getting fat, not on the scraps he was fed. His chest felt softer too and his hips, body shifting a little more to accommodate the new life inside him. He must have been four months pregnant when they finally noticed a change in him._

_“You getting fat?” Luke asked, tugging Will towards him and ripping the blanket away._

_Will didn’t say anything, keeping his head bowed as the older man manhandled him about like he always did._

_George knelt down beside him, hands going to Will’s stomach, feeling. “Fuck!”_

_The others looked at him. “What?”_

_“The boy’s fucking pregnant,” he replied, glaring at Will like it was all his fault._

_“What the fuck?” That was Lee. “How can you tell?”_

_“My sister looked like this when she was pregnant, round like that. This stupid slut’s knocked up.”_

_“How do we fucking get rid of it then?” Elijah asked._

_“He’s too far gone for a safe abortion,” George told him._

_“What about an unsafe one?” That was Luke._

_“Too dangerous and none of us know shit about how to do that. Say he ends up dead and then someone finds the body, that’s the four of us going down for murder. They’ve already got us on record.”_

_“So, we just wait for him to give birth to that thing?” Lee shook his head. “When I find out which one of you wasn’t using protection properly I’ll fucking kill you.”_

_“It might have been you,” Elijah shot back._

_“Fuck off! Look, we wait this out and then when the kid’s out we can deal with it.”_

_Will wet his dry lips before he spoke. “What are you going to do?”_

_Lee glared at him. “You shut the fuck up. Whatever we do, you won’t be seeing that kid go to kindergarten, thats for sure.”_

_Even though the fight had gone out of him, Will knew he had to do something, had to get away or attract help. But he was just a shell of himself._

_After the initial anger about the unexpected pregnancy had passed, he found that the men seemed to find his pregnant form very appealing. None of them would want to wind up being the father of the baby but he could tell they enjoyed the sight of his body swelling, proof of their fertility and what they’d done to him._

_He began to despise his pregnant bump because their hands had been all over it. When the baby started to kick Will could never bring himself to respond and let the child know that it’s mother was there. Instead he sat, waiting until the insistent tapping inside him stopped. The poor thing probably sensed his discomfort and wanted to remind him of its presence but Will despised the very idea of birthing a monster’s baby._

 

_*****_

 

_He cried out again, now lying on his side, blanket underneath his body. He was only wearing his shirt, having discarded his pants and underwear when his waters broke. They’d left him alone, having gone back upstairs and shut the door to drown out his pleas for help when they’d realised what was causing his pain._

_So Will was left alone to give birth. And it hurt, so, so badly. He’d often mused about birth scenes in films and TV shows, wondering if they were accurate representations of what it was like in real life. He also tried to remember what they taught about how to correctly give birth but his mind was scrambled by the shockwaves of agony he felt._

_Sliding his fingers between his legs, he could feel the head crowning. Unsure of what to do, he began to push when he felt the urge, stopping to take short gasping breaths and curse himself once more. He planted his feet on the floor to brace himself, putting more force into his pushes. When the head slipped free, he knew he was halfway there._

_Next were the shoulders. Will felt himself ready to collapse but he knew he couldn’t give up, not when he was so close to pushing the child into the world. He summoned up more energy and managed to get both the shoulders out. After that, the rest of the baby slid out easily enough, landing on the blanket between his legs._

_Will raised into a seated position and his shaky hands lifted the small, slimy body. A sharp cry rang out from it as Will cradled it into himself. Looking down, he saw that it was a baby girl. Her eyes were squeezed shut, she was streaked with his blood, and she kept crying but he knew that she was his as soon as he laid eyes on her. She was just his, a baby without a father, because she didn’t deserve to grow up knowing him._

_He wasn’t alone anymore._

_They cried together, though Will’s sobs were very faint, merely the result of the pain he’d gone through, the exhaustion, and what he now knew. He had to get out of that basement. It was a thought he’d had countless times before but he had lacked the fire, had felt like he was only alive because he was breathing. But now she was alive too and she deserved to live._

_Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Will began to plan his next move._

_*****_

 

_Will grimaced as he twisted his wrist in the chain, straining to properly fit the needle into the lock. It had been so long since he’d picked a lock that he was worried he wouldn’t be able to do it. The locks on there house often got jammed and needed to be forced open, so Will’s father had taught him how to pick them just in case._

_It had taken a lot of convincing to get them to give him a needle. Having the baby had been a big help. She slept down in the basement with Will but it was cold and she was still very newly born, so she cried a lot. This irritated the men to no end, especially at night, so Will knew he had to make his move before they got so irritated with the baby that they left her to die on a roadside somewhere. He’d told them that she cried because of the cold due to holes in the blanket. He’d asked for a needle and thread to repair it and they’d handed them over eventually, figuring Will couldn’t do a lot more than attempt to prick them with a needle._

_The baby was sleeping silently now and hopefully she’d stay that way. The four men were just upstairs, drinking and talking, so having one of them storm down in a drunken rage would destroy that slim chance they had at escape. The men often came down to sexually assault Will when they were drunk so he knew he’d have to be quick if he wanted to get a head-start before they noticed he was missing and came after him._

_Finally, the first chain began to loosen, the lock dropping away. Will pulled his arm free and then got started on the other one and then his ankles too. Once he’d freed himself he pulled on the tattered rags that he was sometimes allowed to wear when they didn’t want him naked. Wrapping the baby up in a blanket, he lifted her against his chest. She stirred then, on the verge of waking, and Will held his breath. But she just gave a little snuffle and then settled back down._

_Will climbed up towards the window of the basement, pushing it open as far as it would go. It was an old window that was rarely opened, so it creaked and needed a solid push before it gave. That noise did attract the attention of one of the men, and Will’s heart raced as he heard footsteps at the top of the stairs._

_But no one came down. Instead, there was a shout of, “stop that noise down there unless you’re after another beating.”_

_Will waited for his heart to slow before he clambered up onto the sill. First, he laid the baby in her blanket down on the ground outside, then he climbed out too, wincing at the strain it felt like on his body. He was young but years in captivity had weakened him, leaving his body skinny and undernourished. Will took the precious bundle in his arms again and then just ran, heading through the fields, desperate to catch the attention of anyone to get to safety._

_But it was night and it was dark and there was no one around. His running joggled the baby and startled her awake, causing her to cry. Will shushed her, paranoid that the men had already found the basement empty and were in pursuit. He wanted to cry himself but he had to look after them both._

_He ran until he reached the road. Then, he lay down, knowing that he couldn’t go any further._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These guys will be making an appearance in future chapters but don't worry, Hannibal is onto them and we all know that Hannibal's prey never escapes him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal does strike me as the kind of guy who doesn't really know what to do with children but I imagine he could be quite good with them if he tried.


End file.
